


You Are All Made So Uniquely

by Kumikoseph



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Case Fic, Character Death, Crime Scenes, Each Connor model has a different name and personality, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Ken Doll Android Anatomy | Androids Have No Genitalia (Detroit: Become Human), POV Third Person, Romance, at least at first, multiple connors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23724172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kumikoseph/pseuds/Kumikoseph
Summary: After the peaceful revolution, the Connor androids, numbers 52 - 59, were freed and turned deviant, left to their own devices to build lives for themselves. Now, one year later, they start turning up dead one by one.Connor, Hank and their new partner, Max Rivers, a sprightly 29 year old detective who recently transferred from a different precinct, must take on the case, hunt down the remaining RK800 models and warn them of the danger they may be in before the perpetrator gets too close for comfort.
Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	1. How Lucky I’d Just Become

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leonixon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leonixon/gifts).



> I'm writing two fics at once. Let's see how well THAT turns out.
> 
> I've had this idea swimming around my head for a while and I've just been thinking about it nonstop while trying to write my Avengers Loki fic, and I just couldn't help myself. I had to start this. I'm really excited to write a whole bunch of different Connor models with different personalities and I hope you're excited too.
> 
> This story is dedicated to my wonderful, lovely friend, Leonixon <3

One year on from the android’s peaceful revolution, life had fallen back into place for Max Rivers; it had been a imposing change at first, and humanity wasn’t known for its patience and susceptibility to large adjustments, but it had not affected Max so greatly as it had others. Max may not have always seen androids as people from the very beginning, but she had always been amicable towards them, after all, what was the use in terrorising them and making their jobs difficult? Kindness did not cost a penny.

Which was why accepting androids as living beings came easily for her. She struggled to understand how some humans continued to see them as objects, especially given they were so  _ aware.  _ Everything they felt was real, from anger to happiness, from fears to fearlessness, and they were all so different from each other, much like humans.

There were several androids that worked in the Detroit City Police Department that Max had transferred to just two months prior. Some had been stationed there before deviating, and some had applied shortly after it was made law that androids were required to receive pay for their work.

It had taken Max no time at all to fit into her role as a detective at the precinct, she was eager to take on and solve cases, and often worked with Officer Chen and Officer Miller, and as a result had formed friendships with them. There was Detective Gavin Reed who was mostly just a dick, although admittedly he worked hard enough and Max had to respect him for that at least. Lieutenant Hank Anderson may have looked rough around the edges at first, but if one were to wait until  _ after _ he’d had his morning coffee and maybe a doughnut on the side, he quickly warmed up to whoever he interacted with. Except Reed, because Reed was a jerk.

Then there was Detective Connor. The self-possessed, quiet, considerate, hard-working android who Max had yet to share more than a few words with. They hadn’t worked a single case together, and it seemed whenever an excuse to mingle popped up, Connor was whisked away to a crime scene. Their paths hadn’t intertwined once, apart from that  _ one _ time Connor had said ‘excuse me, detective’ in that gentle, soothing voice when Max had been blocking his way out of the precinct because she’d been dawdling, too preoccupied with reading a silly text chain she’d received from Tina on her phone.

Max had mumbled a quick ‘oh, sorry’ in an equally mild voice that was perhaps ever so slightly flustered and stepped aside, staring at the android’s back as he, followed by Lieutenant Anderson, made their way to his car, probably leaving for a crime scene. Max pinned that as the very first time she had become intrigued by the android.

She didn’t really count that as a meeting, though.

Connor seemed interesting. He was visually appealing and had a kind face; Max would be lying if she said she didn’t want to know more about him. One glaring difference between him and most other androids was his decision to keep his LED. Max couldn’t actually recall seeing another android with an LED at their temple since the revolution, it was something that drew her to him and made her abundantly curious. The problem was, there was no good moment to actually ask him about it, given that they hadn’t actually been formally introduced just yet, and Max figured it was too personal a question to broach the question anyway.

It was quite unfortunate that Max had never gotten a good opportunity to get to know the android.

Until today.

“You’re assigning me to a case with Lieutenant Anderson and Detective Connor?” Max parrotted the words that had just come out of Captain Fowler’s mouth, because she had to check that she’d heard him correctly.

“That’s right.” The Captain swiped on a data pad, eyes skimming the contents, and then held it out for her to take.

She did so, blinking as she scanned the document that highlighted the homicide report that had come in not too long ago. “May I… ask why?” She wasn’t complaining, no, it was the perfect opening she had been looking for, but she still wanted to know why.

“Because,” Fowler began in his characteristically firm tone, “you have great potential, especially if we find you the right partner. Or  _ partners, _ in this case. Connor and Hank are already aware that you have been assigned to this case with them, I suggest you read up on the case and head to the crime scene with them.”

That explained why Connor’s eyes had been on her as she made her way into Fowler’s office, and why his gaze remained stuck to her through the transparent walls. He and Hank were waiting.

Max swallowed and smiled at Fowler, “Thanks for this opportunity, captain.” She wondered if perhaps the man could read minds, that he knew how much she wanted to interact with the android, and offered her the case out of the goodness of his heart. It was a stretch, but what a coincidence it was!

She left the office and approached her new partners with her head held high and a keen look on her face.

“Detective Rivers.” Connor greeted with a nod of his head, and Max cleared her throat, looking between Hank and Connor with a smile.

“We haven’t formally met. I’m excited to be working with you.” She extended her hand for a handshake, and Connor’s gaze fell to her hand before he tentatively took it.

His lips curled upwards. “Indeed. I’m glad to finally meet you.” It was the first time Max had seen him smile, and she brightened all the more. Connor’s face was  _ made  _ for smiles.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on,” Hank interrupted with a subtle roll of his eyes, “let’s get going before the the body completely decomposes.” What a charming man Hank was.

Max soon hopped into the back of the lieutenant’s car, a shiver trailing down her spine from the cold temperatures outside. It seemed that Connor and Hank had a routine going. Hank drove, Connor stole shotgun, and Max was left to shuffle into the back middle seat - she supposed it was something she might have to get used to if joining Hank and Connor on cases became par for the course.

Several minutes of driving passed quietly before Connor broke the silence.

“Detective Rivers, I have heard you are quite diligent. The number of cases you solved in the past year alone is impressive. I look forward to seeing your process at the scene of the crime.” Connor spoke, eyes ahead, and Max might have flushed at the praise if it wasn’t for the fact that she had no idea how Connor knew of her work prowess.

“Oh, thank you. Who did you hear that from?” Max enquired.

“I read your file,” Connor explained, “If I might ask a personal question - what made you decide to transfer from your previous precinct?”

The fact that Connor had read her file made her a little uneasy for no reason other than that it made her feel at a disadvantage. He clearly knew a lot about her, or at the very least he knew all about her work ethic, accomplishments and just about everything that was listed in her employee folder. The fact she knew next to nothing about him had to be rectified.

Max politely responded, “I wanted a change of scenery. Lansing is okay, but Detroit is… very active. I like the bustle, and of course it made more sense to transfer rather than commute back and forth every day. I don’t drive, public transport is a nightmare.”

“Makes sense,” Connor concurred, “Did you always want to be a detective?”

Max shrugged slightly, “Ever since I was a little girl, I guess. I used to read detective stories… Sherlock Holmes, mostly. It, um, it inspired me.” She felt her cheeks grow pink as the admission left her mouth, given the fact that they were on their way to a real crime scene, it seemed childish for her to disclose that it was a fictional character that led her into her profession.

“I see.” The conversation seemed to taper off at Connor’s response, mostly because Max felt far too embarrassed to say anything more, but after a few minutes, the android spoke up yet again.

“Have you settled in well at our precinct? Nobody is giving you trouble, are they?”

Perhaps Connor was just trying to be friendly, but he seemed awfully too inquisitive. It wasn’t like it bothered Max all that much, but the fact that he was dropping a barrage of questions on her after not having spoken up until that point was just odd.

“Everything’s fine, no problems,” Max assured him, “you… ask a lot of questions.”

At this, Hank let out a gruff laugh and Max was promptly reminded that the lieutenant was present and listening. “That’s Connor for ya,” Hank said, “he’s as nosy as they come.”

Max stifled a smile as Connor looked over to his partner with a weary sort of indignation on his face, “I prefer the term  _ curious,”  _ the android opposed, and then oriented his attention on Max, “is there anything you’d like to know about me?”

A million questions flew through Max’s head. There were many things she wanted to ask Connor, but she was quite sure she wouldn’t have time to ask all of them before they arrived at their destination. The inquiry about the LED ring cycling on the side of his head pushed into her mind, but it seemed like it could be too personal a question, and she didn’t want to stick her nose where it wasn’t wanted.

Instead, she settled on something else, “How did you come to be a detective?” It was a simple enough question. The other androids at the precinct were all officers, but Connor was the only one who held the position of a detective, something about him seemed oddly special.

Connor’s LED flickered quickly, and he seemed to pause before answering, “I was… made for detective work… a prototype android.” His reply was surprisingly perfunctory, Max had expected a more detailed and explanatory response, but she supposed he  _ did  _ answer her question. Maybe it was a sensitive subject. If he was built to be a detective, perhaps he felt he had no choice but to continue to be a detective.

“Are you happy with your job?” Max asked.

“Yes, I enjoy working with Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor turned his head back for the first time and smiled, “and I hope to enjoy working with you.”

Max wasn’t sure why, but the android’s declaration filled her with glee. It was good to have friends in the workplace, and with any luck she would have far more opportunities to get to know the android who had captured her interest.

Connor resumed his forward stare, “I assume you read the report?”

Max had scanned it briefly, picking up the most notable details and information. “The victim is forty-two year old Anton Morris who worked as a lawyer. Suspected cause of death: strangulation. His body was discovered by a takeout delivery driver who came to his home to check on him when Morris failed to place his weekly pizza order or pick up his phone.”

“Wow,” Hank let out an amused snort, “I need that kind of loyalty from my takeout driver.”

Connor sent Hank a look. “What are your presumptions?” He asked Max.

Max sat back in her seat, eyebrows raised as she ran over the possibilities; there was a distinct lack of information to make any sort of guesses as to what had happened just yet, which had Max confused over the reasoning for Connor’s inquiry. Did  _ he  _ have some idea already?

She gazed down at the data pad that highlighted the case file, and shrugged, “Well, he was a prosecutor. Perhaps the relative of somebody he prosecuted wanted revenge after he wrongfully had them imprisoned, and they felt the only way to get retribution was to choke the life out of him,” she smiled to herself at the whimsical idea her mind cooked up before realising Hank was giving her an odd glance through the rear view mirror while Connor had cocked his head, “uh, sorry. Big imagination. I’m not quite sure what may have happened, it’s unwise to make assumptions before examining the scene.”

Hank rolled his eyes but Max spotted the low-key smile on his face.

“Indeed,” Connor remarked, and then added a tad quieter, “I like the way you think, though.”

Max had to bite her lip to hide the grin that threatened to stretch over her lips.

When they arrived at the scene of the crime, there were officers surveying both the outside and inside of them home, paying careful attention not to sully any possible clues that may have been lying around. The victim’s home was rather grand, Max thought as the three of them stepped through the front door - which made sense, a successful lawyer probably reeled in a hefty paycheck - and everything appeared calm and undisturbed on the outside.

The hallway stretched to the back of the house, but the first door on the left led into the victim’s study where his body had been spied through the blinds of the front window. Max observed the body as she entered the room and tied her straight, brown hair back before pulling on a pair of disposable gloves, her face utterly nonchalant at the sight of the victim lying on his back in the centre of the floor, his unseeing eyes staring up at the ceiling, his mouth agape, and the deep purple bruises creeping visibly up from below his unbuttoned collar. She vaguely noticed out of the corner of her eye that Connor was watching her instead of the body.

Anton Morris was a rotund, wrinkly man who looked older than he was at the time of his death, something of which Max attributed to the fact that he was a heavy smoker. The yellowed state of his fingernails and teeth, the lingering smell of smoke in the house, and the very obvious mountain of cigarette butts in the ashtray on the table were all evident of that.

The suit he wore was tight around the belly, the buttons of his dress shirt straining to contain his portly stomach, and was clearly ruffled with the signs of a struggle.

“Detective Rivers, why don’t you examine the body and see if you can come to a conclusion? The lieutenant and I will search for clues.”

Max’s eyebrow arched up at Connor’s request, “Sure,” she acceded, and then added, “you don’t have to call me Detective Rivers, by the way. Just call me Max, it’s fine.”

Connor nodded silently and took a step back to allow Max better access to the body, and began scanning the room for anything that looked out of place while she set about her task, crouching by the cadaver to begin her inspection.

The body was fresh, putrefaction had not set in - that was clear from the get go. From the initial perusal of the victim’s face, Max guessed it couldn’t have been more than twenty-four hours since the time of death. The man lived alone, she had read in the report, so it was a good thing the takeout delivery guy had chosen to come over and check on him, or it may have been a while before the body was discovered. Homicides were always easier to pick apart when the body was still in stage one of decomposition, and in her line of work, that didn’t happen often.

Max looked more closely at his face, eyeing the lines on his forehead which were indicative of a lot of stress over time - it made sense, being a lawyer probably brought a lot of trials and tribulations to the table.

A glint caught her eye and she leaned over to peer into the man’s mouth curiously, spotting a few gold crowns capping his molars. Interesting, but not really relevant to the case. Instead, she gently grabbed the man’s wrist, lifting his arm to test the stiffness of his limbs; the elbow bent slightly but not smoothly, and a wriggle of his fingers determined that his digits had already succumbed to rigor mortis completely, which suggested said decomposition stage had not fully run its course just yet.

“Jesus. This guy must be completely loaded,” Hank remarked as he laid his gaze on the expensive decor, which included a small gold bust behind a locked glass cabinet. Max could not tell who it was modelled after from a fleeting glimpse. “Rich asshole eats takeout pizza just like the rest of us. Huh.” There was an edge of yearning in the gruff lieutenant’s voice.

Connor looked over his shoulder, “You’re not getting takeout tonight, you had chinese food

two days ago. I’m going to cook you something less greasy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank grumbled.

Max paused, arching a single brow. While she’d seen the two always arrive together at the precinct every day, she hadn’t actually picked up on the fact that they probably lived with each other. She didn’t think too long on the fact, returning her scrutiny to the body below, and as she lowered the arm back down to the floor, she noticed something odd.

One of his fat fingers had a light imprint around it where a ring used to be. From the compression, Max figured he had probably worn the ring for a very long time, years perhaps, without taking it off. If that was the case, where was the ring now? Max’s eyes flitted around the floor in a transient search, but found nothing.

As she leant over to lift up the victim’s pant leg, which was contrastingly loose to his waistband, she noted that Connor was subtly watching her, and not for the first time since they had arrived. A flicker of self-consciousness passed through her before she brushed it away and continued her work. The skin of the victim’s calf had darkened in patches that were closer to the ground, it was typical in bodies that had been dead for over eight hours, as the blood had pooled due to the effects of gravity.

Max straightened in her kneeling position, letting out a sigh as she concluded her initial appraisal, and her eyes quickly followed Connor as he knelt opposite her on the other side of the body, pinning her with an expectant look.

“Do you have any conclusions, Max?”

His inquiry sounded keen, like he was excited to hear what she had to say, and Max found that undeniably wholesome - or as wholesome as one could find it while crouched over a corpse. She felt somewhat under pressure but readily delivered her surmise.

“Well,” Max began as she gathered her thoughts and checked the time on her wristwatch, “I’d place the time of death somewhere between 9am and noon.”

Hank hummed, “Wow. Surprisingly early in the day for a murder, huh?”

Max snickered, “Perhaps the killer is a morning person.” Her comment garnered a laugh from the lieutenant.

“Any ideas on the identity of the killer?” Connor pressed.

Max’s mouth opened, and then closed, before opening again, “Um, good question…” she cleared her throat, slightly abashed as the figurative cogs in her brain turned to try and restle up an answer. She glanced back to the door that led to the hallway, her eyes on the floor, searching as she thought back to what she had seen when she entered the house.

“There was no sign of a break-in,” she recalled, and tilted her head, “the victim  _ could  _ have opened the door to his killer without knowing who it was, but…”

“But?”

“The body fell here when he was strangled,” Max stated matter-of-factly, and pointed a finger to the floor, “there’s no signs that the victim was dragged through the house, so he was killed  _ in this room, _ and it’s unlikely a struggle would have led them all the way from the front door into this office… if you’re being attacked, the natural reaction is to run to where you know there’s an exit, not into a closed-off room.”

“Right. So…?” Connor urged again, the corners of his lips upturned.

“So the victim let the killer into his house, into this room… it was somebody he knew. Someone he trusted.” In that moment, Max had such a clear sight of Connor’s face - the knowing smile, freckled skin, the blue spinning LED, and his eyes, friendly brown eyes. They were nothing like her own - she had been told many times before that her blue eyes were piercing and intimidating even when she tried so hard not to be. She was almost envious of how naturally affable he looked.

“Conclusion?”

Max blinked a few times fast and licked her lips, eyes falling back to the corpse, to the gold effigy behind the locked cabinet, and finally to the missing ring on his finger. An idea came to mind.

“A relative,” she said, “who’s dead set on inheriting his fortune. They got tired of waiting for him to keel over so they decided to speed up the process and kill him themselves… does he have children?” She asked the question, a little overexcited that she’d hit the nail in the head.

“No children,” Hank supplied, watching carefully, and Max deflated.

“Oh.”

Connor straightened up, the smile on his face lingering, “You were very close. Not bad at all.”

Max blinked stupidly for a moment, “Close? Are you telling me you know exactly what happened?”

This time, Connor said nothing, but he turned his head and inspected the floor beside him, before picking something up between his thumb and forefinger. Max had to squint to see what it was - a hair, short in length.

“There are no fingerprints in this room or on the body except for those of the victim’s. This hair, though, proves that the killer was human and not an android; they cleverly wore gloves to choke their victim, but they were not clever enough to wear a hat.” He held up his hand as Hank pulled out an evidence baggy, holding it open for Connor to place the hair into.

“Hold up,” Max quickly protested, “the hair is brown like the victim’s, and the same length too. It could be his!”

“No,” Connor stated simply, “the hair I found is a lighter shade of brown, very different from our victim’s dark brown hair.” Of course, only an android’s vision could notice the subtle hue difference, it was beyond the comprehension of the naked human eye.

“Hm. I’d love to have your eyes.” Max mumbled absent-mindedly.

“There’s something else you missed,” said Connor as he lifted the opposite hand of the victim - the one Max had not inspected - and held his fingernails up to the light. There was blood beneath the victim’s nails.

Max felt silly for not having checked sooner, “He fought back against his attacker… that’s the DNA of the killer right there.”

“Correct.” Connor proceeded to gather the dried blood on the tip of his finger and lifted it to his lips, mouth open.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Max asked bluntly, eyes wide as she watched Connor  _ lick  _ his finger. The lieutenant’s laughter rang out through the room as Max stared at the android in disbelief.

“I’ve been waiting for that the whole time,” Hank admitted, finding his partner’s actions highly amusing.

Connor’s LED turned yellow, cycling as he processed something, and then flashed back to blue. “I can analyse biological evidence in real time,” he explained, eyebrows furrowed. There was a dash of irritation in his eyes as his gaze flickered up to Hank. “Sorry Max, I probably should have warned you.”

Max blinked. “That… that was so…”

“Disgusting?” Connor offered.

_ “Cool.  _ It was cool,” Max corrected. Holy shit. The android could take DNA and just analyse it on the fly? No horrendous waiting times for test results to come back from forensics, Connor could just  _ do that  _ in seconds? “It’s fucking cool.”

Connor looked incredulous at her response, there was something radiant about the shine in his eyes that made Max forget they were knelt in the middle of a crime scene.

“It was the brother.”

“Huh?”

“The brother,” Connor repeated, “the DNA belongs to the victim’s brother, Reginald Morris. He has a history of drug abuse, and I suspect you’re right about the motive. He wants to inherit his brother’s fortune.” The android’s eyes fell to the hand that was missing a ring, “You noticed the imprint on his finger. I surmise Reginald Morris took the ring to pawn it in order to make some quick cash that could pay for his drug habits while he waits for the big money to fall into his hands.”

Max sat back in awe, giving the android a look of admiration, “Fantastic.”

There was something in Connor’s expression that Max couldn’t identify, but he quickly brushed it away, covering whatever it was with a genuine smile, “We’ll bring the suspect in for interrogation to get a confession out of him. I’m impressed, your hypothesis closely matches my own. You couldn’t have known the victim had a brother, it wasn’t in the report. You did well with the information and evidence you had at your disposal.”

Max grew flustered under the praise. Her first instinct was to hide her face behind her hands, but given that she’d just been using her gloved hands to poke and prod a dead body, she managed to refrain and bite her lip instead.

“I’m glad Fowler agreed when I asked him to allow you to join us for a case.” Hank’s phone began to ring just as the words left Connor’s mouth, but Max ignored it, clinging to what the android had said.

_ “You  _ asked Fowler to put me on this case with you? Why?”

“Y’ello?” Hank answered his call, hitting the speaker button on his cell.

Connor winked at Max and said nothing more.

_ “Hank. I’ve got a new case for you.” _

Flushed from the android’s subtle action, Max diverted her attention up to Hank, as did Connor, as Jeffrey Fowler’s voice came through the phone.

“Another case?” Hank sounded dubious, “What’re we dealing with here, Jeffrey?”

_ “A call’s just come in. An android was found dead in his home not too long ago - looks like an absolute butcher. You two are the resident experts on homicide cases involving androids. I need you to go take a look, and take Max with you.” _

Hank sent a look Connor’s way, who shrugged, and Max raised an eyebrow at the silent language the two of them seemed to communicate with.

“We’re still working the case you  _ just  _ gave us. Can’t Reed take it?” Hank snapped back at the captain.

“Hank,” Jeffrey audibly sighed, “It’s not just any android. It’s an RK800.”

Max failed to understand why Connor’s whole body stiffened or why his LED cycled red.

  
  



	2. A Simple Gesture Among Chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those of you who left a comment and/or kudos on the first chapter! I really appreciate that you took time to tell me what you liked! I hope you enjoy this chapter where Connor and co investigate the first RK800 death!

The address Captain Fowler gave them was roughly thirty minutes out of town, and the officers that had arrived on the scene initially were from a different precinct. A couple hours on, the Captain had been alerted to the subject matter of the case, and he had determined that it would be beneficial for Detective Connor to investigate the scene.

Why this was the case, Max was not yet sure. The victim was an android, that much Max knew, and Fowler had mentioned the model number, RK800, which wasn’t one she recognised off the top of her head. There were a few questions she wanted to ask either Connor or Hank, but Connor’s LED had been spinning yellow since they got in the car to head to the scene, and Hank was completely silent. The atmosphere in the car seemed tense, and it was a damn long drive when everyone was hardly speaking a word.

The house was small but homely, almost quaint in a way. From the outside it looked like any other well looked-after home, but on the inside there was a far more disturbing scene that awaited them.

Max followed Hank and Connor into the house, once again slipping on a fresh pair of disposable gloves so she could safely work on the new crime scene; she didn’t know what she was expecting to find, but she was nervous, and she figured it must have had something to do with the way Connor and Hank were behaving.

From what Max understood about Connor through the things she had heard from other coworkers at the precinct, the android was the best detective in the whole police department; he was supposedly a master at solving cases, and was able to approach even the most perturbing of crime scenes with a calm and analytical mind. That was what Tina had said about him at least. Detective Reed had been a little more callous in the way he had described the android.

That was why Max couldn’t possibly imagine what had Connor seeming so unsettled. It wasn’t until she stepped into the house and followed the hall down to the kitchen that she learned exactly what had prompted such a reaction from her new android partner.

There was blue blood everywhere. It pooled on the light laminate flooring and was splattered against the white walls, creating a stark contrast in colour, and in the centre of it lied the victim, an android who appeared to be an exact replica of Detective Connor.

Hank and Connor’s unease suddenly made a lot of sense. There were many hundreds of androids that were the same model and bore the same faces, it shouldn’t have come as a shock to Max, and yet the whole thing seemed a little surreal. Again, she couldn’t imagine how Connor was feeling at that moment, staring down at a dead android that looked exactly like him - Max knew if she ever saw a dead clone of herself, it would probably mess her up quite a bit, but at the same time she supposed androids knew there were others out there that looked just like them, so perhaps it didn’t trigger the same psychological issues.

Either way, she found the whole image disconcerting, but Connor displayed a reasonable level of composure, given the circumstances.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Hank gruffly remarked, looking between his living android partner and the dead android before them, presumably having a similar response to Max.

After a few moments of silence, Connor spoke up, his LED finally cycling a steady blue, “The victim’s status is irreparable. His name is Michael. Model number, RK800. Serial number, 313 248 317 - 55. According to my database, he has been a professor at Detroit State College, teaching English literature, for just over eight months.”

Max frowned, standing clear of the blue puddle near her feet, and examined the body. The most obvious injuries were the slit throat, which had completely stained the victim’s plain white button-up shirt, and the knife wound directly through the forehead, no doubt having pierced and destroyed his processor, but the closer Max observed, the more she picked up on the subtler damages; there were patches on visible areas of body where hard blows had caused abrasion to the chassis, resulting in his synthetic skin peeling back. It only made sense that the lesser damages were caused before the killing blow, so there had to be a struggle.

“Who called the police?” Hank questioned the female officer that had led them onto the scene.

“One of his students,” Officer Matthews responded, “He was in the middle of an after-school online class he offered for extra credit, which consisted of a video call with eight students. We’ve already contacted four of the eight students to receive their statements and we’re in the process of tracking down the others, and before you ask - no, the murder was not caught on camera.”

The officer motioned to the connecting room, which appeared to be a small office, “He was holding the class in there, as you can see, his computer camera is facing away from this room. According to the students we’ve spoken to, Michael stepped out of the room, and shortly after, they heard the commotion take place. They thought it was a prank at first, we weren’t actually called until thirty minutes later.” 

“They waited thirty minutes? Fuckin’ kids,” Hank groused, “he could’ve been saved.”

“That’s unlikely,” Connor concluded, stepping around the body to pick up the thirium-coated kitchen knife that had been discarded nearby, “he was killed quickly. The skirmish barely lasted a minute before it was all over.”

“How do you know  _ that?”  _ Officer Matthews inquired, regarding Connor with a doubtful look.

“When you take the time to actually look around, you’ll see that it’s quite obvious.” Connor’s retort was brisk and actually quite rude, and while Max wasn’t overly acquainted with the android, she knew well enough to know that such an attitude was out of character for him.

“Connor.” Hank said, sounding oddly like he was reprimanding his partner. The lieutenant seemed a little taken aback at Connor’s impolite remark toward the officer, which only enforced Max’s belief that it was unusual.

“Sorry,” Connor apologised, to his credit, “I scanned the room and preconstructed what the killer’s actions had to have been for them to correlate with the given evidence, such as the blood splatters and the victim’s injuries,” he explained.

Max was eager to hear Connor’s explanation for exactly how the murder took place, but she was distracted by the chill drifting through the air; she turned her sights to the sliding door just across from them that led to the back garden, wondering why the damn thing was open anyway. Usually, when there was too wretched a stench from rotting corpses, windows and doors would be left open, but this body was both fresh and inorganic, which meant there was no terrible smell present anyway.

And then the thought occurred that maybe no one present had even opened the door. Maybe it had been open when they arrived. Max stepped between Hank and Connor towards the door, poking her head out into the cold night air. The garden wasn’t large, but it wasn’t tiny either, there was a garden chair sitting on the patio, and the space was boxed in by a six-foot wooden fence.

It was far too quiet out tonight. The realisation that the killer must have escaped, and probably even entered, through the back garden was enough to send a chill down Max’s spine. It had only happened a few hours ago. What if the perpetrator was still nearby, listening to every word that was being spoken?

“Max?” Connor’s voice interposed through her train of thought, and she turned around, eyebrows curiously raised, “I want to hear your theory.”

Max had really been hoping he wouldn’t ask for her hypothesis again, because rather embarrassingly, she was struggling to put her thoughts together of the incident before her; she didn’t know if it was the fact that the victim shared a face with her new partner, or because it was getting late and she was just tired, but the fact of the matter was she didn’t feel as confident as she had been at the home of Anton Morris.

“Sorry, Connor,” Max murmured almost shamefully, “I’m having trouble taking this scene in. There seems to just be… a lack of clues pointing to what exactly happened.”

Connor thankfully didn’t appear disappointed, “Very well. Hank, any ideas?”

The gruff lieutenant scoffed, giving the victim a lingering look before he sighed and spoke, “I’m thinking it was another android that did this. You and I both know your model was the most advanced that Cyberlife ever built, I find it hard to believe that a human did  _ this _ to an android that was built to take down perps with ease.”

Max blinked, looking at Connor in surprise. He was the  _ most advanced  _ android ever built? Connor, the friendly, soft-spoken, freckle-faced, doe-eyed detective was built to  _ kick ass? _

Connor nodded his head at Hank’s reasoning, “I agree, that is the conclusion I had drawn. Not only must it have been an android, but it had to have taken him off guard.”

“Do you have anything else that could support that claim?” Officer Matthews questioned, not as doubtful as she had sounded before. Perhaps she’d realised Connor was the smartest person in the room.

“There’s no human DNA present. No fingerprints, hair, blood or flakes of skin. A human would leave a trace of something.” Connor’s statement seemed sound enough, and Officer Matthews pulled out her tablet and pen stylus.

“Alright, let’s hear what happened, go ahead.”

Connor gave the officer a look before stepping back and motioning the sliding door, “The killer entered from the garden, took the knife from the kitchen drawer and stood in this corner,” he traced the murderer’s steps, pressing himself back against the wall beside the archway that led to the office, “when Michael came in, the murderer slit his throat from behind, pushed him against the counter, but while Michael was caught unprepared, he was quick to respond. He recovered quickly, turning and knocking the knife from the killer’s hand, and what followed was a brawl, he took a few blows that damaged his chassis, was weakened from the loss of thirium, and was incapacitated when his pump regulator was struck,” Connor paused, blinking a few times fast, “my scanners show a considerable indentation in the biocomponent. He must have been kicked hard in the abdomen, and that’s when he fell back against the floor. The killer retrieved the knife and… perforated the skull, destroying his processor and any images Michael may have recorded of his attacker.”

Max was yet again in awe of Connor’s thought process. It all seemed to make sense, the blood spatters supported his supposition, and now that it was laid out in front of her, it seemed almost crystal clear. Connor truly had talent, Max was almost jealous. Almost.

“Wow,” she murmured, feeling strangely excited at Connor’s show of incredible intelligence.

“...and the killer escaped the same way he came in, right?” Officer Matthews inquired as she jotted down everything Connor had said.

“Correct,” the android confirmed, before kneeling down by the closest splotch of thirium and dipping his fingers into it.

“Ah, here we go. This is where Connor licks all the evidence in the room,” Hank declared, and Max found the subtle eye-roll from the android to be somewhat amusing.

“He’s what?” Officer Matthews sounded repulsed, and she proceeded to exclaim, “That’s  _ disgusting!” _

“Actually,” Max began, determined to defend her new partner’s highly useful ability, “It’s pretty neat. He’s got a whole analysis lab in his mouth and it returns results in seconds. How is that not the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Max noticed Connor’s mouth pull into a smile.

The android detective ended up testing every streak and smear of blue blood present, even the smudge on the garden fence that neither Hank, Max or any of the humans on the scene would have ever been able to catch under such low lighting, and to their dismay, they all came back as belonging to the victim. There was no blood from the attacker, which left them wholly unable to identify the killer, and put them in a difficult spot.

“We’ll need to contact his place of work, any friends he may have, and the students he was teaching at the time of the incident. We’re going to have to conduct quite a few interviews,” Hank grumbled, sounding very wearied from the idea, “but that’ll have to wait till tomorrow. I’m practically falling asleep here.”

It was getting very late, nearing eleven at night by the time they had finished up on the crime scene. The ride home was just as quiet as the ride over, for different reasons - all three occupants of the car were doing a lot of thinking.

Connor and Hank were nice enough to drop Max off at her house, for which she was grateful. “See you at work tomorrow,” she told them as she exited the car.

“See ya,” Hank said.

“Goodnight, Max.” Connor’s voice was wonderfully smooth, especially when he uttered her name like that. They waited until she had entered her home before pulling away.

* * *

The next day, Max arrived at the precinct, blinking her bleary eyes as she slumped down in the chair at her desk, lazily resting her head in her palm; she hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep that morning. Upon arriving home from the murder scene of the RK800 known as Michael, Max found herself tossing and turning in bed, trying desperately to think up theories that could deliver a viable explanation for a potential motive. She should’ve just given it a rest, but the imaginative side of her brain wouldn’t stop rolling.

What if Michael gave one of his students a failing grade and the student made the rather drastic choice to kill their teacher in retaliation?

What if Michael’s colleagues found him insufferable and conspired to have him killed?

What if Michael had been having an unethical relationship with one of his students, and the parents of the student found out and decided to take revenge?

They were all quite fanciful theories that Max supposed belonged more to storybooks than their current case, but it wasn’t as though such ideas never passed over to reality on occasion. The fact was, her mind wouldn’t shut up and let her sleep, so she had unfortunately arrived at work in a somewhat enervated condition.

“Hey Max, over here.”

Max perked up at the sound of Hank’s voice, and glanced over to see him sitting at his desk, waving her over. He pointed to Connor’s desk which was opposite his own, so Max tentatively rose from her chair and made her way over to her android partner’s personal work space. She sat slowly, feeling like it was pretty rude of her to steal Connor’s seat, but Hank was the one who had told her to sit there, so surely there was no harm.

“How you doing?” The lieutenant inquired, scratching at his beard.

“Uh, good. I’m tired.” Max responded, subconsciously spinning back and forth in the swivel chair, “Where’s Connor?”

“Break room.”

“Oh.” As she looked up, she spotted the android in question exiting the break room and heading their way, carrying two coffee cups. Max didn’t really think too much of it as he gave one to Hank, until he placed the other down in front of her.

“For me?” Max blinked in surprise.

“Of course,” Connor smiled, “black, two sugars.”

Max’s jaw dropped as she looked between the coffee cup and the android, a pleasant warmth flooding through her at the sweet gesture. The android always brought coffee to Hank every morning, Max had noted this every day since she’d started working there, it was just a kind deed that should’ve been no big deal, but Max couldn’t help but make a big deal over it in her mind. 

“T-thanks,” Max stammered, “how did you know how I like my coffee?”

Connor tilted his head, “I’ve seen you make it before.”

Perhaps it was just that Max wasn’t on the receiving end of a lot of selfless actions all that often, but for Connor to just bring her a cup of coffee without being asked, and knowing exactly how she took it because he had made a note of it before, it was just a wonderful feeling through and through.

Max held the hot cup in both hands, warming her fingers which were still chilled from the temperatures outside, and sipped at it slowly. Connor did not appear frustrated in any way that she had taken his seat as he had found his own place on Hank’s desk, sitting oh so casually upon the surface.

“I compiled a list overnight of the contact details of Michael’s colleagues and students, and I have already reached out via email to inform them of the unfortunate circumstances,” said Connor, “they know where to find or contact us if they have any information pertinent to the situation, but if we end up lacking any leads, I think a good place to begin interviews would be with the young people who witnessed, or rather  _ heard  _ the event take place.”

“It must’ve been pretty awful for them,” Max spoke, “hearing that take place. I wouldn’t be surprised if a few of them end up traumatised.”

“I’m still pissed it took ‘em half an hour to decide to call the cops,” Hank mumbled, “kids these days lack common sense.”

Max snorted, “You’re sounding like an old man.”

“I am an old man,” Hank replied, smirking.

Connor frowned, “Fifty-four years can hardly be considered old when the average human life expectancy is eighty.”

Max contained her astonishment at the revelation that Hank was only fifty-four years old. She wouldn’t have said it out loud, but the lieutenant looked quite a bit older - perhaps his straggly grey hair and beard aged him beyond his years, or maybe his appearance was owed to bad habits. Connor had mentioned something the day before about forcing Hank to eat healthier.

“Well, I’m  _ hardly  _ middle-aged, Con. Honestly, I could keel over at any moment,” Hank continued to say, a teasing edge to his voice.

“Not if I can help it,” was Connor’s simple response, eyebrows furrowed as if he was determined to single-handedly ensure Hank could blow out the candles on his ninetieth birthday cake.

Max smiled at the subtle bickering between the two. It was good to see them interacting up close for a change, they seemed like very close friends; she would’ve loved to know more about how the two of them met and ended up as partners, but she didn’t want to seem nosy - clearly she wasn’t as confident as Connor was at asking personal questions.

Somebody shuffled slowly up to the lieutenant’s desk - a young woman clutching a closed laptop in her arms, hugging it flush against her chest as she approached, looking hesitant and unsure. She looked typically geeky with large glasses, her blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, and was dressed in a big fluffy jumper. Her face looked pale as she came to a stop behind Connor, staring pointedly at the back of his head. Before Max could acknowledge her, the young woman spoke up.

“Um, ex-excuse me. Detective…?”

Connor turned around, noticing her for the first time, and a pensive look flashed briefly across his face as Max presumed he was scanning her, before he hopped down from the desk and faced her properly, “Miss Janine Cooper, you’re one of Michael’s students, correct? I’m Detective Connor, this is Lieutenant Anderson and Detective Rivers. I assume you’re here because you received my email.”

The woman, Janine, who couldn’t have been older than twenty, nodded her head timidly, “Yes, I got your email… I know you said you’re the same model as Professor Michael but I wasn’t expecting you to look…  _ exactly  _ like him.” 

She was ashen as though she’d seen a ghost, because from her point of view she might as well have, and Max couldn’t blame her, it had been trippy enough getting over it when she had initially seen the victim’s body the night before.

“I apologise if my resemblance to your teacher brings you any distress,” Connor responded empathetically, “seeing as you have taken it upon yourself to come here so soon after the incident, I can assume you have useful information for us. Would you be willing to answer a few questions for me?”

Janine swallowed tightly, her gaze dropping to the laptop in her grasp before she drew in a steadying breath and exhaled, “Yes, I’m- I can answer some questions, but, is it- would it be possible to do this somewhere private?” She glanced around the precinct. It was relatively crowded and Max could understand her desire to talk about the issue somewhere quieter given the fact that her teacher had been found dead less than twenty four hours ago.

“Of course,” Connor agreed, “follow me.”

Max and Hank joined them as Connor led the way to the interrogation room. While it was definitely private and quiet, it wasn’t exactly a comforting room in any sense. “This isn’t an interrogation, by the way,” Max clarified as Janine took a seat opposite Connor, “there’s nobody on the other side of this mirror. It’s just us in here,” she gave the woman a small smile, wanting her to feel as relaxed as possible.

Janine nodded, placing her laptop to the side on the centre table and interlocked her fingers to keep her hands from shaking, but Max was observant enough to catch the slight tremors before she held them firm, and she was sure Connor noticed it too.

“If you need to take a break at any time, just let us know,” Hank pointed out as he leaned against the wall.

Connor spared the laptop a curious glance before regarding Janine, “I understand this may be difficult for you to talk about, so we’ll try to ease into it, but any information you have about Michael in or out of his work is appreciated. Even if something seems irrelevant, it may help further our investigation. Firstly, can you describe what kind of person he was?”

Janine sighed, eyes down on her hands as she thought about the question for a moment, “He was… he was a great teacher. My favourite teacher, actually. He taught us English lit and he really enjoyed his job… there was just this bright aura about him, y’know? Like he was always happy and it just rubbed off on us. He was funny, well-” she shrugged her shoulders,  _ “I  _ thought he was funny. He always tells us dumb jokes and stupid puns, and no one else really laughs, but- but I do.” She paused, brow furrowing and she blinked the moisture out of her eyes.

“He cared about us, like,  _ really _ cared,” Janine continued, “he didn’t just care about our grades, he wanted us to feel involved in his classes. I don’t… I don’t understand why anybody would do this to him,” she trailed off into a whisper, looking up at Connor with glistening eyes.

Max sympathised with the girl. It was clear she admired her teacher and that his death came at a great loss for her, the grief in her eyes was palpable. Max knew the feeling.

“Do you know of anybody who didn’t like him?” Connor questioned.

Janine’s eyebrows went up and she shook her head, “I… I can’t think of  _ anyone  _ who wouldn’t like him. Everyone in my class had a great relationship with him… the other teachers were cool with him… it’s like he knew exactly what to say to get everyone to like him.”

“Mm, naturally,” Connor remarked with an almost detached tone, which caught Max by surprise. She wasn’t entirely sure what his comment even meant, but Janine looked up at him curiously, prompting him to gesture with his hand, “please continue.”

“Um,” Janine murmured, shaking her head, “the only thing I can think of that comes close to someone not liking him is Professor Victor Morgan, he teaches art history. They, uh, have a sort of rivalry, I guess? Or, they  _ had  _ a rivalry,” it was heartbreaking to watch her miserably correct herself, “Professor Morgan talks about Michael all the time, saying he’s a  _ cheater _ because ‘intelligence only counts when you don’t have a supercomputer for a brain’.”

Hank snorted at the quote while Connor arched an eyebrow, “Tell me about Michael’s relationship with Victor Morgan.”

Janine worried her lip between her teeth, “Why? Do you think Professor Morgan was the one who killed him?” She seemed alarmed at the idea, and Max was amazed that the student had jumped to such a conclusion.

“We’re just trying to compile as much information as we can so that we can figure out potential motives. We’re aren’t making assumptions like that, but we can’t rule out those possibilities either,” Max explained, trying to settle the woman down.

“Oh,” Janine averted her gaze in embarrassment, “well… Professor Morgan and Michael would sort of… argue a lot, I guess? They maintained a professional relationship for the most part, but it was no secret that they weren’t friends. I think… I think Professor Morgan is jealous that Michael was the most liked teacher in college.”

“Does Victor Morgan have any issues with androids in general?”

Janine didn’t seem like she had an answer at first, which led Max to believe that Victor Morgan probably didn’t show a lot of support for androids. “I… don’t really know. I’ve heard him make jabs about Professor Michael being an android, but I don’t think anyone really took it seriously, least of all Michael. I’ve never heard or seen anything to suggest that Professor Morgan hates androids in any way.”

Connor sat back in his chair, blinking rapidly for a moment as his LED seemed to flicker, and Max had to wonder if he was taking a moment to search through his database for any more info on Victor Morgan that may have been on public record. Connor could have searched anything from criminal records to social media posts prior to the android revolution, and if there were anything to incriminate the art history professor, it would probably be worth looking into. They needed any lead they could get their hands on.

“Miss Cooper, I would like to ask about what happened last night. What you  _ personally  _ witnessed. If you could recount the events as you remember them, that would be appreciated.”

Janine grew visibly tense, her shoulders rolling. The mere thought seemed to put her in a very emotional state, but she tried her best to gather herself so that she could reveal just what she had witnessed.

“Professor Michael teaches an optional after-school class on poetry every Wednesday evening. It’s like a virtual classroom, we all video chat and it starts at five-thirty sharp and lasts for an hour. So, yesterday, everything seemed totally normal up until around six o’clock, and Michael seemed to just sort of… space out? He kept looking away from the camera off screen, I didn’t really think anything of it, but after a few times he excused himself and got up - said he’d be right back,” Janine’s mouth seemed to sew itself shut as she recalled the events that happened next, and her eyes immediately grew wet. This time it was impossible for her to hold back tears.

She tried wiping the moisture away with her hand, but every time she did there was more, she was far too upset to even continue to speak.

“I’ll get you something to drink,” Max announced, and was quick to retrieve a cup of ice cold water from the break room; when she returned, the young woman sniffled and murmured a quiet ‘thank you’ before taking a few stabilising sips.

Her hands were shaking again, practically vibrating against the table, and Connor reached out his own hand, laying it across Janine’s in a comforting way, “I know this is difficult for you, please take your time.”

If Janine was an android, Max would’ve thought she short-circuited for a moment, because her mind seemed to just stop working as she stared down at Connor’s hand on her own, blinking rapidly for far too long. Her breath seemed stuck in her throat, until Connor reminded her to breathe. Janine’s response was to flush with embarrassment, and that was about the moment when Max realised why she was freaking out.

It was obvious. She had feelings for her professor, the android who had tragically died, and she had just received an affectionate, consoling gesture from somebody who was completely identical to him. Max understood immediately what was going through her mind, and quickly prompted her to keep speaking so that the student could avoid any accidental mortification from her blatant ogling of Connor.

“Can you tell us what happened after Michael walked out of the room?”

Janine pulled her attention away from Connor, eyes widening as she remembered what she was there for, and took a composing breath, nodding her head; she pulled both hands back, resting them in her lap instead of on the table.

“There was complete silence for a moment,” Janine explained, “and then… there was a commotion, a splashing noise, something falling to the floor. It sounded like he fell over, or something… and then he… he-” she crumpled again, but instead of breaking down, she forced herself to speak, “I heard him say something- I’m not entirely sure what, but then he called out… to  _ us,  _ I think. He told us to call the police. But his voice was all garbled, like he was choking or something, but-” she shook her head, a few more tears squeezing out of her eyes, “android’s don’t need to breathe… why would he be choking?”

Max frowned, picturing the crime scene in her head and deducing that Michael had probably been choking on blue blood after having his throat slit. There was absolutely no way she was going to reveal this to Janine. The sound probably haunted her enough already without her having to know the details of what happened.

“Janine,” Hank began, “why’d it take so long for any of you to call the cops if you  _ heard  _ him tell you to call the police?”

Janine looked anguished by the question, and forced herself to take another sip of the water before answering, “Everyone else was convinced it was a joke. That he was playing a prank. I wanted to call the police, but everyone kept telling me not to. I… I didn’t want to waste police time if it  _ did _ turn out to be a joke, y’know? I know I should’ve called immediately… I know I was stupid for letting the others persuade me that Michael was just kidding around…” she looked down at the metallic table, tears rolling off her cheeks. The poor girl just looked utterly defeated and full of regret.

They let Janine take some time to regain her composure, and eventually she pulled her laptop in front of her and tapped it with a pointed finger, “The main reason I came here so quickly is because I have something that might help you… I, um, I record all the after-school classes with Michael, including the one last night…”

“You actually caught the moment on camera?” Hank straightened upright, taking a faint step forward. He was obviously eager to watch what Janine had captured on her computer.

“Not the visual, no, the camera was pointed away from what happened,” Janine sighed, “but… the audio… I don’t know, maybe you can find something out if you watch it? The whole video is over an hour long but the moment Michael steps out of the room is at thirty-two minutes and fifteen seconds.”

The fact that the girl had committed the timestamp to memory was probably just another indication of her guilt.

“Thank you, Janine. I’m sure this will be incredibly helpful,” Connor spun the laptop around and prepared to open it up, but Janine quickly sprang to life, slamming her hand down on top before he could lift the screen up.

“Wait!”

Connor’s LED flickered yellow for a brief moment, “What’s wrong?”

Janine’s lip quivered, “Please… don’t watch it now… wait until I’m gone. I don’t want to hear it again.”

Connor paused and nodded his head, “Very well. Allow me to download the files now so you can take your laptop home. I will have to confiscate the footage from last night and erase it from your harddrive. Do you mind if I copy some of the other recordings of after-school classes as well? If I can review them, it will help me to understand more easily what kind of person the victim is.”

Janine gasped, “Please don’t erase them all! I… I want those recordings to remember him by.”

“I will only erase last night’s footage,” Connor clarified, and opened up the laptop, pressing his hand to it to interface. His synthetic skin disappeared up to his wrist, and his LED spun yellow while he saved all the video files to his system. He blinked a few times fast once again. Max was curious as to why he seemed to have the tick every time his processor stuttered. It was both odd and endearing, in a way.

“Thank you, Janine. You have been a great help. If you discover anything else that may be useful, you have my email address.” Connor returned her laptop to her and stood, gesturing for the witness to leave the interrogation room.

She did so, once again clutching her laptop to her chest like it was something incredibly precious, and Max supposed it was, in a way, if it contained video footage of somebody who was now dead, somebody Janine had an intense fondness for. Max knew she would want to cherish and protect something like that too.

After Janine left, Max and Hank followed the android down into the archive room to both review and register the new evidence. The video footage could return something very useful, or it could turn out to be a dud, but either way it was worth an important look. The screen in the evidence locker room would be a good place for them to be able to focus and watch it.

“What are you thinking, Con?” Hank asked, noticing the occasional flicker of the android’s blue LED.

“She was hiding something,” Connor stated, glancing back at them over his shoulder as they descended the stairs, “you noticed it too, didn’t you? She was behaving strangely, I couldn’t pinpoint why.” He seemed somewhat frustrated with himself.

“Uh, what are you talking about?” Max asked, hoping she hadn’t missed anything important. If Janine had been acting furtive, Max hadn’t noticed.

“Yeah, what the hell are you on about?” Even Hank seemed confused as to what Connor was referring to, which made Max feel a little better.

Connor paused his stride, and turned fully to face them, surprise evident on his face, “You didn’t notice her unusual behaviour? Her pulse kept racing whenever she spoke about the victim, and did you see how nervous she became when I tried to comfort her?”

Hank and Max shared a knowing look before staring back at the android detective, almost incredulous in their scrutiny.

“You can’t be serious, Connor?” Max began, “It… it was obvious that she-”

“She had the hots for her professor, Con, and probably you by extension,” Hank elucidated, “her pulse was racing cause she was attracted to you.”

Connor’s LED fully cycled yellow and his mouth hung open as he looked at them, processing the new information. “What?”

Hank laughed, patting his android partner hard on the shoulder as he walked around him down the steps to continue on, “You’re really that clueless, kid?”

Connor looked embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinker as he avoided Max’s gaze, murmuring a resigned “oh” before quickly following after the lieutenant. Max squashed down the laugh that wanted to bubble up, saving Connor more humiliation. She was sure he didn’t want her laughing at him, and besides, her mirth came more from the fact that Connor had reacted so preciously to realising he’d been completely wrong rather than the actual fact he’d been mistaken.

That was the first time Max realised Connor could be quite blind to certain social cues that seemed  _ oh  _ so obvious to everyone else. It wasn’t a matter of intellect, but more a type of wisdom that was born out of experience, which led Max to wonder if Connor had had a significant other in the year since the android revolution. His lack of intuition regarding Janine’s clear attraction to him seemed to suggest not, but Connor was friendly, cute, charismatic and very smart. He had to have been with  _ someone,  _ right?

Max brushed the thought away as she caught up with Hank and Connor in the archive room, reaching the monitor the android had begun interfacing with. He transferred the video files across, pretending the exchange from a few seconds ago hadn’t happened, and stepped back when the upload had completed.

Selecting the most recent file remotely, Connor played the video and skipped through to thirty-two minutes and fifteen seconds in where the witness claimed it began, and the three of them silently observed the screen.

_ “...anybody know where the word sonnet is derived from?”  _ Michael was sitting back in the chair in his study, leaning back in a way that suggested he was completely relaxed as he addressed his students, his voice sounding perfectly like Connor’s. The students, Janine plus seven others, each had their own camera feeds displayed in much smaller boxes, and the lot of them ranged from barely listening to eagerly interested.

_ “It’s derived from the Italian word ‘sonetto’, and it means ‘little song’.”  _ Janine responded keenly, her face alight with a smile.

_ “Correct,”  _ said Michael,  _ “a sonnet is a very particular form of poetry. Each sonnet consists of fourteen lines and is written in iambic pentameter-”  _ he cut himself off suddenly, immediately sitting up straight in a tense posture, and stared off to his left, eyeing the archway that led to the kitchen, which was off-screen.

_ “Professor?”  _ One of the other students inquired, drawing Michael’s attention back to the screen. The android looked unsure for a moment, blinking a few times fast. Max noted his lack of LED, which would’ve been a dead giveaway to how he was feeling at that moment.

_ “Um… each line has…”  _ Michael looked back and forth from the kitchen to the camera in quick succession, as though he was performing a double-take,  _ “each line has fourteen syllables- sorry, I meant ten. Ten syllables, and it has… a specific…”  _ he looked back to the kitchen, trailing off into a quiet mumble, and Max noted that he suddenly had all the students’ attention. They were all looking very intrigued and confused, as though a stuttering professor was a very uncommon occurrence for them.

_ “Excuse me. Terribly sorry, I’ll be back in just a minute.”  _ Professor Michael said, rising from his chair and lifting a hand in an apologetic gesture, before disappearing off-screen.

Max practically held her breath, waiting for the inevitable audio that had left Janine highly disturbed. Moments passed, seemingly stretched out from nervous anticipation.

And then, the sounds of a faint struggle could be heard, which quickly picked up in volume; the spattering sounds of thirium painting every surface after Michael’s throat was slit, the noise of him collapsing against the counter, knocking items off the surface, and the sound of the knife clattering when it hit the floor, just as Connor had predicted through his preconstruction technology.

The sound of him choking soon followed, a horrific gurgle as Michael desperately tried to get words out of his throat while it filled with blue blood. There was a vague murmur, Max couldn’t interpret what he had said, but then Michael shouted a lot more clearly.

_ “...police! Call po-”  _ A final gag, followed by what sounded like a brief sizzle of Michael’s voice box, and then the unmistakable noise of metal stabbing through the android’s chassis and puncturing his processor.

Deathly silence.

“Jesus…” Hank murmured.

There was a quiet rustle, presumably of the perpetrator exiting the kitchen through the patio door and disappearing off into the night. All the students were staring dumbfounded at their computers, waiting for something to happen or for somebody to speak.

Janine was the first one to break the silence.

_ “Professor?”  _ She called through her microphone, voice breaking slightly partway through the word,  _ “Are you okay? Professor?” _

One of the other students, a spotty-faced boy with a mop of brown hair shook his head, lips pulled into a strange mix of an expression, like incredulity and uncertain humour,  _ “What the fuck… what was that? Is he fucking with us?” _

_ “Did he fall over?”  _ Another student asked, disbelieving.

_ “He’s an android. Androids don’t fall over.” _

_ “Guys,”  _ Janine stammered, reaching for her phone,  _ “I… I think we should call the police.” _

_ “What? No, he’s just screwing with us. Guarantee he’ll be back in a minute and say ‘look at your faces!’”  _ Another boy seemed confident it was a prank, and Janine lowered her phone, but watched on irresolutely.

“God…” Max murmured, shaking her head, and then turned to Connor, “Can you rewind to the bit where Michael can be heard speaking from the other room?”

Connor nodded, and the display quickly zipped back several minutes. Max squinted, as if the action could help her hear better, as the incoherent words sounded. She shook her head, unable to decipher.

“What did he say there?” Hank asked.

Connor rewound the footage once more, playing it again, and his LED began spinning yellow, “He said…  _ ‘you… you’  _ and then asked his students to call the police.”

Max blinked, staring at Connor, “What do you suppose this means?”

“It’s like he’s in disbelief, or something?” Hank offered.

The android detective narrowed his eyes, “I can’t say for sure… the inflections of his voice seem to suggest a mix of fear and shock, but I think it’s possible that Michael may have recognised his attacker.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thrive on feedback, so please do take a moment to leave me a comment, it seriously helps and gives me the motivation to continue!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter! If you're enjoying it and you want to see more, PLEASE do leave a kudos and a comment. Feedback means so much to me, and it'll go a long way, so lay it on me!


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